Giving Back Jackets?

You are never gonna believe what happen as I entered work on this Baltic evening. Just to continue on from the 'jacket getting nicked' blog. I stroll into work, I'm freezing, I'm starving. I sit up at the bar at the green room; pour myself a nice warm cup of coffee as I wait for my microwave dinner to finish cooking. I take a sip -

'Jesus, this day is getting better, this is exactly what I need.'

The coffee was quality. Bing! Thai curry ready, have a taste -

'Holy Shit, these things are tasty. Jesus, this day is going very well so far.'

But nothing, nothing could get me ready for how savage my day was about to get. One of the wardrobe girls, Clare, approaches me,

'Is your name John?' she asks me.

'Yeah,' I say 'but nobody has ever called me that, why?'

She goes 'You know Alva?'

'Yeah, she's the other costume girl who was covering for people.'

'She has your passport.'

I'm like 'What?'

'Yeah,' Clare says, 'one of her room-mates accidentally took your coat on home from the Shaw on New Years Day.'

I swear I jumped off the stool and picked her up with joy. Get in there, how fucking random can you get. I have never seen anyone I work with in the Shaw, but supposedly she had gone home with my jacket which she was made to put on the bouncer in the Shaw, Bunk from the Wire as Paddy amazingly pointed out, he is the fucking image. Anyway, she went home, realised that she was wearing someone else’s jacket, pulled out my passport and went 'Fuck!' She showed the passport to her room-mate, who so happened to be working with me, and bing bang bosh, I get my fucking jacket back with passport and wallet intact – Get the fuck in there.